


chain reaction

by setsugekka



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: 2k15 edit: ace spectrum kasakise, M/M, dumb boys in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-26
Updated: 2013-06-26
Packaged: 2017-12-16 05:48:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/858540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/setsugekka/pseuds/setsugekka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kasamatsu Yukio has never experienced love and never planned to; however, if it’s with a certain blond brat, he figures it’s worth the try.</p>
            </blockquote>





	chain reaction

**Author's Note:**

> this is really dumb and i hadn’t at all intended for this to go the way it did but regardless i hope i did my otp well!! ヾ(´ρ｀)〃

If anyone were to ever ask Kasamatsu if he had ever planned on falling in love, he probably would have opted with a good scrunch of his brows and a threatening look to the person inquiring.

Romantic relationships, for all he’d seen them depicted as and basically had thrown in his face throughout his young life, had never really been a thing he’d strived for. Moriyama had once tried psycho-analyzing that part of him─rambling on about repressed and unresolved god knows what ─but in the end they both had come to the same conclusion that it was nothing as complicated as anything like that (which resulted in Kasamatsu giving him a good kicking for all the trouble). The Kaijou Captain had, in no simpler terms, ever felt any particularly strong romantic inclination towards anyone, regardless of gender. He can count on both hands how many people he might have once considered sexually attractive, but anyone graced with the thought he had just as easily thrown out of mind in less than a week.

In essence, Kasamatsu Yukio had the romantic capacity as that of a rock.

And in his seventeen years of being alive, he’d been more than okay with that. He was okay with just watching as Moriyama time and time again had his heart broken by petty unrequited affairs; he was okay with witnessing his teammates have a go at potential lovers at goukon’s, was okay with being that guy in his class to break whatever poor girl’s heart that had fallen for his quiet fortitude. Mornings consisted of early jogs, rigorous afternoon practice and studying and late-night guitar lessons to no-one but his family pet cat - all of this he was perfectly okay with, the routine, the independence, it was his calling and he sought nothing more nor less.

Except when a boy with a smile too bright to be earnest, a shade of hair too blond to be natural, and a heart of gold too precariously worn on his sleeve of thorns joined their basketball team, he knew he was in trouble.

 _Kasamatsu-senpai_ , he’d initially felt the call grate on his hearing and almost compulsively experienced the need to physically harm the all-too-cheery model in some form. He’d detested the swagger and confidence in which the former Teikou-member had walked into their gym, disliked the taste of  _our Ace_  on his own tongue, regarded the youth with a suspect that really, was very uncalled for. Yet even so, he kept his guard up even as the boy with a grin so constant and laughter so perky eventually wormed his way into Kasamatsu’s heart like no-one else had before.

To say the least, it was a terribly frightening experience.

* * *

At some point, the freshman had found out about his early-morning regimes and managed to pester him enough into joining. They jogged in mutual silence until, gradually, they spoke of everything and nothing. Kise, for all his airheaded acting showcased himself as, proved to be a worthy study partner when Kasamatsu reigned in his flighty tendencies and often invited himself over to his classroom during lunch breaks and thinks nothing of it.

Practice was always strict, demanding of the team’s effort and focus and Kasamatsu always ensured there was no-one slacking off (not even the pretty blond model with an apologetic smile on his face and his dozen of adoring fans in tow). Kise was almost daily assigned the task of cleaning up after-hours for arriving late whereas Kasamatsu would excuse himself from unnecessary group outings with the justification that as Captain he had to keep watch. Progressively, the two finished earlier until it was just them casually eating at a nearby diner or playing a friendly one-on-one, and it was the most fun Kise thinks his senpai has had in awhile.

When Kise offers Kasamatsu to spend the afternoon over at his house when they get off of practice sooner than usual, he internally questions himself when he agrees a lot easier than he should have and more than harshly berates the looming paranoia that, were he anyone else, he would be jumping from joy at the prospect of spending the day at Kise Ryouta’s house. Instead, he elbows the blond in the side as per routine, grins at him sharply when the freshman engages him in a conversation of which American team is better, and chooses to ignore the soft fluttering he feels ebbing at the edges of his heart.

* * *

“Ah, I really do like you, senpai.” the words come out gently, in a tone much softer than he’s ever heard Kise speak in.

When he looks up from his seat on the bed, thoughts long forgotten from tuning his guitar, clad in only his knee-high socks and lounge shorts, he thinks for a split second he may have just been imagining it. However, the pause in the younger blond’s motions from his place in his textbook, the irregular stutter he’s hurriedly rushing out and the tender flush slowly but surely claiming his normally pale features tells Kasamatsu more than Kise is able to.

Silence falls between them, one not entirely filled with tension but still very much stifling, and neither teen knows how to break through it.

Kasamatsu fingers the knobs tying the strings of his instrument together, thinks about what it means (what he’s been taught) to like someone, to want to be with someone, rolls the thoughts in his head and strums with his other hand absentmindedly. He doesn’t want to say  _I know, I understand_  as much as he would like to, because ever since the Winter Cup (no, even before then, most definitely) he’d wanted to be the one that stood by Kise and helped him back up, no matter what.

Seemingly recalling where he is and what he is holding off on answering, the brunette casts a glance down at the blond who’s rigidly sitting on the floor, gaze almost boring a hole through his wooden flooring.

“I, I think I like you too.” Kasamatsu doesn’t remember when he’d developed a speech impediment as harshly then, but he disregards the way his voice falters and opts to directly look the blond in the eye.

There’s a distinct glimmer in Kise's honey eyes, a glint he’s only rarely seen himself which speaks volumes and he’s unsure of how to feel about it. A pit of worry, of guilt, of petulant chastising that tells him  _you don’t deserve this._

“R-really?” the blond perks up, the tension in his shoulders and posture unfaltering but the hopeful beginnings of a smile are all it takes to lull Kasamatsu as he feels his own heart beat in his ears.

Fighting the suddenly impressive urge to fidget his hands, he manages to keep the younger male’s gaze with his own, and it is another long pause stretched out between them. This one is a lot different, though, that much Kasamatsu can tell; the uncertainty is still there, but the void of despair is all but gone without a trace. He’s never been one for poetry and his language skills only get him so far in the world of purple prose, this he knows very well; except, he finds that even he could write a thousand novels solely from the tentative but gentle press of his hand against the surprisingly soft curve of Kise’s jaw.

He knows this is barely anything to get sentimental over, knows it’s hardly a meaningful touch by any standard ─ but frankly he doesn’t care, can’t find it in him to give a shit and takes the blond’s face in his hands and finds it’s a lot more pleasant than he could have ever thought.

“You think I’d lie about this, stupid freshman,” he grumbles out, intending to be all bark and bite but Kise just smiles up at him in that innocent way only he knows how to and nearly steals the breath out of Kasamatsu ( _haven’t you stolen enough_ _,_  he grouses internally, but gives up the struggle regardless).

* * *

It’s not a date, the brunette repeats to himself in his head. At least, not a date by most definitions, anyways, he thinks.

Practice had ended a lot later than it normally did, and while he and Kise diligently cleaned up neither had been diligent enough to actually look at the time. They eventually came to the resolution that Kasamatsu’s home was a lot closer and no harm would really be done in keeping the blond over for the night, so while Kise phoned his parents to explain why he wouldn’t be arriving home Kasamatsu wasn’t sure why he had to fight a blush creeping its way onto his features their entire walk home.

When he hangs up, the younger male slips one hand into his pocket and snags the brunette’s into his left, deftly twining their fingers together. The elder is this close to punching him for posterity’s sake, but finds he can’t really bring himself to when Kise bursts into a grin about how it’ll finally be their first time spending the night together (and at that, he really does punch him).

“Believe me, it’s not like anything’s going to happen.” he assures, and it leaves the blond pouting as he rubs at his sore shoulder.

The younger boy gives him a look that he knows is supposed to work him over, but shirks it and presents with a strong finality  _“It’s not.”_

“So mean, senpai!” he whines into the cool autumn air, an indignant look on his face as he furrows his brows in emphasis.

The brunette doesn’t give it much preemptive thought before he’s yanking at Kise’s shirt-collar leaning up against him, mouth so close to the blond’s he can taste the citrus chapstick on his lips. Kise flushes, hard, not entirely sure why himself but the nagging feeling in the back of his head coaxes him to press just that hairsbreadth forward, and he thinks his face might just be on fire when Kasamatsu sighs into his mouth. He forgets about everything at that moment, forgets what he was throwing a tantrum over, disregards that maybe some of his fans might be out on the street. Instead, he focuses on the way Kasamatsu moves his mouth against his, devoid of haste and entirely deliberate; the contact gentle but earnest, the way the brunette cups the back of his head and nibbles on his lower lip. Kise pushes aside that it’s  _his_  low whine that pierces the air when they finally pull apart, heart caught in his throat as the older boy looks up at him, sharp grin in tow.

“Done sulking, freshman?” his hands linger on his face, lightly swiping at the glistening wetness on Kise’s lips before pulling away.

Mouth drawn tight as his blush comes back full force, Kise has to turn away with much reluctance as Kasamatsu just smirks in response, right hand intertwining with his as they continue their trek home.

Kasamatsu Yukio has never experienced love and never planned to; however, if it’s with a certain blond brat, he figures it’s worth the try.


End file.
